Walking Together While Others Ride By
by Genevievey
Summary: A collection of fluffy vignettes inspired by the Disney adaptation of 'The Music Man' starring Kristin Chenoweth. Just ideas that popped into my head: moments in the life of Harold and his dear little librarian.
1. Once upon a time, not so far away

**DISCLAIMER/AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I do not own Marian Paroo, Harold Hill, River City or any of it's inhabitants. They all belong to Mr. Meredith Wilson. I'm just borrowing them for a while, for my enjoyment and hopefully yours.

Walking Together While Others Ride By

Young Marian Paroo stretched up on her tiptoes, just managing to turn the white enamel door handle. The great mahogany door swung open, and the little girl entered her father's study, her bare feet silent on the floor. Mr. Paroo has his head down, deep in a book. Marian came to stand beside his chair.  
"Papa…?"  
The man turned, his spectacles magnifying the twinkle is his eyes. "There's my little girl. Are you ready for bed?" The nightgown-clad child nodded as her father lifted her up onto his knee.  
"Goodnight then, princess."  
"Can you read me a story?"  
"_Will_ I read you a story." The man smiled, reminding his daughter, not for the first time.  
"Will you read me a story?"  
"Alright then. Come on."  
Mr. Paroo swept Marian up into his arms and carried her across the landing to her bedroom. The little girl smiled, clinging to her father as she was cradled safe in his arms. She laughed as he pretended to drop her, before laying her gently down on her bed.  
"Now, which story would you like?"  
"Cinderella."  
The man chuckled, reaching for the leather-bound book. "All these silly love stories will go to your head, and when you're a big girl you'll wait around for your Prince Charming instead of marrying a real man."  
"Don't be silly, Papa. I don't want to get married anyway. Boys are so irritating."  
"Just see if you still feel that way in five years," he smiled, opening the storybook.  
"Once upon a time, in a land far away…"


	2. Escaping Together

Marian sighed, gazing out at the rain streaming down the windowpane. Her golden curls hung down into her eyes as she tried to concentrate on her book. She winced as her father began to cough again, the sound travelling from the next room. The young woman knew he couldn't have long to live, his condition worsened each day. Marian had taken on the job of running the household, with her mother almost constantly at his bedside. Mr. Madison visited most days as well, comforting Mrs. Paroo and discussing matters with Marian's father. They had always been the best of friends, for as long as Marian could remember. She was fairly sure he had been her father's best man when her parents were wed.

The young woman bit her lip, fighting back tears. She was so afraid of what she knew could not be avoided. How would they support themselves, without her father's income? How on earth would her mother live without her soul mate? The fairytales never quite got around to explaining what happened after 'happily ever after'. How would…?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Winthrop coming up the stairs. His steps were slow and heavy. She looked up to see his little carroty head poking through her bedroom door. His freckled cheeks were tearstained. Without a word, he went to her, climbing up onto her lap. Marian took him in her arms, closing her eyes as she kissed the top of his head. The little boy buried his face in her shoulder, sniffling. God, she loved him. She had to be strong for him, she had to carry on for his sake. Winthrop raised his head a little.  
"Tell me a story."  
Marian smiled wistfully. Whenever things went wrong, whenever he got scared, she would always cheer him up with a story. It was a way of escaping. For both of them.  
"Once upon a time, in a land far away…"


	3. Til There Was Her

Whatever Harold had been pondering, he was perfectly happy to let it slip from his mind as a certain librarian approached the footbridge, smiling shyly.  
"Miss Marian, you're late."  
"I came right here."  
"No, I'm meant that you're about—well, I'd say about twenty-six years late. It took you all this time to get to the footbridge with a fella."  
Honestly, Harold couldn't help but marvel at that. He understood why, of course, but she looked so lovely at that moment that it seemed a shame she had never allowed a man to love her before.  
"If you want to know the truth, it almost took longer."  
"Oh?"  
"Halfway here I nearly turned back. I suppose I'm not the first to find it easier to think clearly when not under the spell of your salesmanship."  
Again, he marvelled at her. What a perfect ladylike hint, what a sweet smile.  
"Now Miss Marian, surely you don't think I've been selling you anything."  
"No. No, you've given me something. That's why I decided to come."  
"I don't recall giving you anything."  
What was she talking about? Harold frowned. He was beginning to feel decidedly off-balance.  
"Oh yes, you have. Something beautiful. That's why I came. I'm glad. Please don't be afraid that I'll expect too much more. One can't expect a travelling salesman to stay put. I know there have been many ports of call, and there will be many more. But that's no reason for me not to be grateful for what you will have left behind, for me."  
As she turned away a little, Harold found himself stepping closer to her, oddly desperate to hear what she had to say, yet at the same time a little afraid to hear it. What was wrong with him? It must be the heat of the summer evening. Yes, that would be it.  
"Marian, I--"  
He was silenced by the gentle touch of her soft fingers on his lips.

"_There were bells on the hill, but I never heard them ringing,  
__No, I never heard them at all, till there was you."_

She was so beautiful, so sweet, so…innocent. Harold found himself wishing he could be that innocent.

"_There were birds in the sky, but I never saw them winging,  
__No, I never saw them at all, till there was you.  
__And there was music, and there were wonderful roses, they tell me,  
__In sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew."_

The man could only stare. Of all the many women he had met in his travels, this one…She was so…Guilt racked his insides. How many men could fall in love with Marian? How many more deserving gentlemen could have won her heart? Here she was, offering herself to a con, a crook, not knowing that the man she had fallen in love with did not exist.  
Gazing down into her gorgeous eyes, Harold was dimly surprised to find himself longing to be the man she thought he was, the man she loved. For nearly his whole life, he had been able to become whoever he most wanted to be at that time. And right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to be the man Marian was singing to, the man who could hold her in his arms without guilt.

"_There was love all around, but I never heard it singing,  
__No, I never heard it at all, till there was you."_

Harold was losing himself in her eyes, when he felt her hand brush his chest. Just for one moment, he could let himself be a man in love. Surely it was no different from letting himself pretend to be a professor. Brushing aside the voice reminding him he did not deserve her, he leant in, closing his eyes as he felt her warm lips against his and her arms embrace him. Oh, she was so soft, so sweet. Pulling back, the love in her eyes shattered the last remnant of guilt, of reality. In that moment, he was Professor Harold Hill, and he was in love with Marian Paroo.

"_There was love all around, but I never heard it singing.  
__No, I never heard it at all, till there was you."_

Her hands stroking the side of his face, he leaned in again, longing to taste her lips once more. He knew in the back of his mind that after tonight he would never see Marian again, but right now he didn't want to think about that. Reality would wait. Never allow the demands of tomorrow to interfere with the pleasures and excitements of today. And reality was the only thing standing in the way of bliss, as momentary as that bliss may be.

"Marian, there are a lot of things you don't know about me--"  
"Psst! Hey, Greg!"  
Harold sighed internally. If only he could escape reality a little longer.


	4. Words of regret unspoken

_"There were horns of every shape and--…"_

Harold's clenched fist relaxed hopelessly on the clasp of his suitcase, as his other hand went to his pocket, to examine the torn page of the Indiana Journal. His token of the dear little librarian's love.

"_Sweet dreams be yours dear, if dreams there be,  
__Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.  
__I wish I may and I wish I might,"_

Oh, how he wished. How he wished. How gladly he would exchange the cold, hard cash in his pocket for a few more hours of Marian's warm smile, her even warmer lips. But it was too late now.

"_Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight.  
__Goodnight, goodnight."_

See, this is why he would have been so much safer to stick with the sadder but wiser girl. He had known the dangers of letting the heart over-ride the head, but he had failed to heed his own warnings. But he was glad.

Far from the pain-free escape he had planned, tonight would not be easy. But he had to do it. He had gotten himself into this situation out of greed and gold-lust, and now he would pay for that, a price much dearer than any 'commission'. Still, he could not deny that the past three weeks in River City had been well worthwhile.

But what of Marian? The pure, sweet librarian who had finally been lured out of her stuffy library into a world where life and romance could be more than words on paper. Lured was the perfect word, really. He had lead her falsely, and now her first-love's glow would be shattered by the revelation of his lie. Despite his guilt, Harold was glad to be leaving before Marian discovered his true identity. He knew he could not endure the hurt he would see in her eyes. The same eyes still glowing in his memory from their rendezvous earlier that evening.

He couldn't just leave her. He had to make things right. He had been so close to telling her everything, just when Marcellus had interrupted.

But what could he say to her, and how?

His movements were strangely slow, the calmness not matching his churning insides, as he sat down at the desk, reaching for a pen.

_Dear Marian,_

Lord, how do you tell the woman who loves you that you've been deceiving her for weeks?

_Dear Marian,  
__By the time you read this letter, you will probably not want to hear from me. I am sorry to tell you that what you will have heard from Charlie Cowell is true. I know that no apology could ever make up for what I have done, not just to River City, but to you. I…_

Harold clenched his fist, reaching abruptly for a cigar, in the hope it would calm him.

_I cannot say how much I regret any hurt I have caused you, for these past few weeks I have come to realise that…_

Harold sighed, breathing out slowly.  
The man was wrenched from his guilty reverie as the door behind him banged open.  
"Ya gotta get outta here, Greg!"


	5. The night is lonely

Marian did her best to be brave, but she couldn't fight the tears welling up inside her as Harold made his way reluctantly to the waiting sheriffs. They shared one last glance as he submitted his wrists to the handcuffs. Trying desperately to memorize the warm, safe feeling of his arms around her, Marian stared at the now-closed door. Soon, she felt her mother's big hands on her shoulders.

"Come on, love. Let's sit you down."

Winthrop hovered around them anxiously as his sister collapsed onto the sofa.

"Sister, I--"

"I'm okay, Winth. You just go off to bed."

The little boy stepped closer, throwing his arms around her awkwardly, his face still tearstained.

"I love you, Sister."

Marian's smile touched her watery eyes. "And I love you, Winth."

As Winthrop wandered upstairs to his bed, gazing concernedly down as he went, Widow Paroo came to sit next to her daughter. After Marian had taken a sip from the teacup offered, she leaned back into the chair, closing her eyes. The old woman's eyes were filled with tenderness and concern as she gazed at her only daughter.

"Everything'll turn out alright, ye'll see. The Proff—Harold can take good care of himself, we all know that. You can go and visit him in the morning. Until then, try not to fret."

Marian let her mother take her in her arms, resting her head on her shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, lovey."

She nodded, feeling somewhat unconvinced. All she wanted was to have him back in her arms, to know he was safe and that they could continue with their lives, whatever that meant.

"As much as I hate to see you hurting, I have to say I'm glad that you're letting yourself feel."

Marian chuckled. "Me too. This is what it feels like, huh?"

Widow Paroo nodded, smiling as she stroked her daughters golden curls.

"I always _wanted_ to feel this deeply. I just…never could. Until him."

"It takes a special person, but when you find your someone…"

The young woman smiled. _My someone…_ She gazed up at her dear, strong, world-weary mother. "How did you manage? Without him?"

She was so desperate to be with her 'someone' once more, and they were only parted for an evening. How much more it must have pained her mother, losing her beloved husband, forever.

"Oh, it hurt. It still does," the old woman sighed, stroking her daughter's cheek. "But you get on with your life. You live for your family. But you never forget the one you love. Never."

Marian squeezed her mother's hand, and Widow Paroo smiled tenderly.

"Ahh, I'm just glad I have you and Winthrop. Don't know what I'd do without yeh. He'd be proud, you know."

Marian smiled, hoping her mother was right.

"Now, me girl, I know yeh won't feel like sleepin', but it'll do yeh good. At sunup we'll go down to the hall and see that everything's alright. Let's get yeh to bed."

Nodding reluctantly, the young woman let her mother lead her up the stairs.

Tossing and turning restlessly, Marian hugged herself, feeling cold despite the warmth of the summer evening. She wondered if Harold was thinking of her, in his cell. She hoped he was alright. Oh, she just wanted to hold him.

The woman became suddenly alert as she heard footsteps in the hall. Then she felt her blankets pulled aside, and a warm little eight-year-old body snuggled in next to her. Marian smiled as she wrapped her arms around her little brother. No words were needed.

Marian let her eyes drift closed.


	6. Six trombones caught the morning sun

Harold Hill had never felt so elated. The morning sun glittered on four trombones, two cornets, and all manner of brass instruments. Parading back and forth with an old mop in his hand, he felt like a king. There was a band. Not an imaginary band. A real live, boys' band. Sure, it was off-key and out of time, but those kids were making music.

He grinned at Winthrop, who was blasting away to his heart's content. Turning to look at the crowd spilling out of the gymnasium behind them, one face shone out from the throng. His dear little librarian, her face aglow with affection and pride. The music faded away as the band finished their piece, and the proud parents burst into rapturous applause. Grinning and gesturing for the boys to bow, Harold announced to the crowd, "Band practice commences on Monday morning, ten o'clock." Mayor Shinn looked sceptical, but he was the only one. Harold stood, basking in…not glory, but whatever you call the warm glow he felt as the boys ran to their parents, faces shining with pride. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned around to see a familiar face so filled with love and pride that for a moment he was rendered speechless. It took a great amount of self-control to keep himself from kissing Marian then and there, in front of the whole community.  
"May I escort you home, Madam Librarian?"  
"I'd be delighted, Professor," she replied, smiling, and accepted the arm her offered her.

They were silent for a few moments, wandering away from the crowd.  
"Weren't they wonderful?" Marian beamed, looking back at the boys for a moment. Harold nodded, smiling to himself. "So were you. The way you stood up for me in there. It's really thanks to you that I'm not covered in tar and feathers."  
"It was nothing."  
"Yes, it was. It was amazing."  
"Well, I meant what I said. A girl can't dodge the issue every time a little personal risk is involved," Marian winked, and he chuckled.  
"Marian, you've been so good to me, much more so than I deserve, and…I owe you an apology." The mood was suddenly sober.  
"Harold, I've already told you. You don't owe me a thing!"  
"I care about you, Marian, and I don't want to keep anything from you anymore. I want you to know the truth. Shall we just…walk?"  
So they wandered on, past 205 West Elm Street, sticking to the quieter parts of town, where they could have some privacy.  
"My name is Harold Gregory Hill, but in previous years I preferred to be called Greg. I was born in Gary, Indiana in1877. My family moved away before I was four years old, but I went back to Gary a few years ago, and it's a swell place. As you know, I have no university qualifications. My father wanted me to enrol at a university, but being a rebellious teenager, I had other plans. We never saw eye to eye, me and my father."  
Marian squeezed his hand and nodded. She was interested, and longed to know as much as the man she had fallen in love with was willing to tell.  
"I had always had a way with words, and soon learned to use this to my advantage. I could talk my way out of anything, and made the most of it. So when I discovered that there were benefits in…twisting the truth…I began to use my skills of persuasion for my own gain, often at other's expense. But I didn't see that so much then. It was just what I did; my talent. So when I came to River City, I was a seasoned professional. I had my routine down pat; arrive in the city, inform the citizens of their terrible problem that could be fixed by my band, distract the townsfolk until I could collect the money, and run."  
Harold cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "And, uh, part of my routine involved winning the affections of the local music teacher to keep her quiet."  
Marian looked down. Deep down she had known that this had been the case for a while now, but it still hurt to hear him say it. The hurt on her face half-killed Harold, and he raised her chin so she had to meet his eyes. "I'll be honest with you, Marian. That first night, when I followed you across town, it wasn't because I had fallen in love with you at first sight. Marcellus had told me you were the music teacher. But it didn't take long for me begin to enjoy the 'task' of wooing you, and that frightened me. I kept telling myself I was just doing my job, but I couldn't help finding you charming. I…this isn't coming out right…I'm trying to say…" He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "I…It wasn't my plan to fall in love with you, but now that I've fallen so hard I'm glad I did. Marian, I've deceived you so much, and I know I must've hurt you. I don't deserve so much as a smile from you, but even if you can't forgive me, I want to thank you, for softening my fraudulent heart."  
Tears brimmed in Marian's eyes as she gazed up at him. "Oh, Harold. Of course I forgive you. I love you, and no matter how or why I fell for you, I want to be with you, for however long it is possible."  
Harold swallowed hard, for once in his life unable to find the words to express what he felt. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her petite figure. The woman slipped her arms up around his neck, barely even aware that they were in a semi-public place. When they pulled apart, they looked around nervously for a moment, then realised that they were only a few metres from the footbridge, and no one was there to have seen them.  
Smiling shyly, Marian took his hand, leading him across the footbridge and back towards West Elm St in contented silence.

When they reached the Paroo house, Winthrop was playing in the front garden with one of his friends, still dressed in his band uniform.  
"Hello Professor," smiled Linus, Winthrop's friend, as both boys turned to face the approaching couple. "Hello, Professor," said Winthrop. He smiled slightly, although it was obvious he did not yet trust the man entirely, after the shock of the previous night. "Good day, boys. You played marvellously this morning, didn't they Marian? You've obviously been thinking very hard."  
Marian rolled her eyes laughingly, continuing up the steps, as Linus said goodbye to Winthrop and ran off home. "Would you like to come in for some lunch, Harold?"  
"I'd love to, Madam Librarian, but I think first I owe Winthrop here another fishing trip at the river, isn't that right?" The little boy thought for a moment, then nodded.  
"I'll go get ready." Marian smiled after him as he ran through the door.  
"It's not only you I owe an apology to," Harold explained, and she smiled, squeezing his hand supportively. Soon Winthrop was back downstairs with his fishing rod, and they were ready to go. Marian smiled as she watched the two of them go off together, before going inside to explain things to her mother.

Harold looked down at Winthrop as they ambled down the street. The little boy was silent, staring straight ahead. The man cleared his throat, but then he wasn't sure what to say, so he turned it into a cough. It seemed to take forever for them to reach the river, but finally they sat down on the bank and began to hook their lines. Winthrop was struggling with his, so Harold reached out to help him. The boy pulled away. "I got it." The man flinched at his obvious display of distrust.  
"Winthrop…?" Harold gently pulled the rod from his grasp. Winthrop lowered his face, staring at his shoes. "Winthrop, I understand that you're still mad at me. I broke your trust, and what I did was inexcusable. It was big of you to come to the gymnasium today, and play for me. It shows good character, when you give more than you have been given in return. I know I haven't done right by you, and I sincerely apologise. I'd like a chance to make things right, if you're willing…"  
The little boy raised his eyes. "How?"  
"I don't know. Whatever I have to do to make it up to you."  
Winthrop thought for a moment, then a tiny smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. "Teach me to play the cornet. Properly."  
Harold chuckled, relief flooding through him. "It's a deal. Although I may be needing some musical advice from that lovely sister of yours."  
Winthrop grinned, picking up his fishing rod again and casting off into the river. "You like my sister, don't you?"

So an hour later, the two gentlemen returned to the Paroo home sporting a small trout and large smiles.  
"They're back, Mama!" called Marian, coming out onto the porch. "And they caught something!"  
"Good afternoon, Madam Librarian," smiled Harold, kissing her hand.  
"Look at our fish, Sister!" beamed Winthrop.  
"It's, uh, lovely," she smiled, and Harold grinned.  
"We did catch a bigger one, but it got away," he added.  
"Oh yes, of _course_ you did," Marian teased her sweetheart as they wandered inside.

"And it was _this_ big!" gushed Winthrop, gesturing with his arms.  
"Was it now? And I suppose your line snapped and it escaped," Mrs. Paroo looked both amused and sceptical.  
"Something like that," muttered Harold, placing his knife and fork on his plate. "Thank you for the luncheon, Mrs. Paroo. It was delicious."  
"Well, I thought you might be needin' a little somethin' after the past twenty-four hours."  
"And right you were. Well, I suppose I ought to get back to my hotel. I have to plan the lesson for band practice on Monday," he stood up, pushing in his chair, so Marian quickly got to her feet as well. "Very good. Well, it's been grand to see you, me boy. And I don't doubt I'll see a lot more of you in the future." The two sweethearts shared a smile.

Marian escorted Harold to the gate. "Thank you for having me over for lunch, and for our walk earlier."  
She smiled. "You're welcome, on both counts. If you need any help planning for the band, you could drop by again this evening."  
Harold grinned. "I might just take you up on that offer. Until we meet again…" He kissed her hand, then tipped his hat to her, and strolled off, whistling.


	7. A Lonely Town

Her hair was red, loose curls pinned back under a stylish hat. Her crimson lips smiled at Harold across the carriage, but the smile never touched her hazel eyes. Ever since leaving River City last month, he had found himself comparing every woman he saw to Marian. This time last year, he would have found the rouge woman fascinating, he would've returned her smile then insisted he had met her somewhere before. Now, she was of little more interest than the magazine on her knee.

As the train ground to a halt, Harold got to his feet immediately, pushing his way through the crowd to the door. Yes, he was used to this. For years, this had been his life. The road, the railway. Train carriages full of strangers had been where he had felt most at home. Even now, Harold felt an echo of that 'on the road again' buzz. New York City was a far cry from River City, Iowa.

Striding past an old bookstore, the man's thoughts drifted once more to the woman he had left behind in Iowa. He wondered what she was doing at that moment. Perhaps she was teaching, or playing the piano herself. Perhaps she was reading a bedtime story to Winthrop. Perhaps she was talking and laughing with her mother. Or perhaps she was thinking of him. He hoped she was.

He had been surprised, how reluctant he was to step onto the train bound north. He had entered River City with the intention of leaving within 3 weeks, but it was not until he really had to leave that he had realised just how badly his foot was caught in the door. He had told Marian (and himself) many times that it was just a short business trip, that he would return after a month with all necessary arrangements made for Prof. Harold Hill's Musical Emporium.

Now, as he ambled into a New York bar in the wee hours of the morning, he had achieved his aims. He had contacted his old friends, who knew how to go about setting up a business. He had ordered a range of musical instruments and sheet music, which the Wells Fargo Wagon would deliver in due course. And now, he was ready to go home.

Home. What a word to be able to use. Harold Hill hadn't had a 'home' since he was sixteen years old. But now that he was a man, he could not deny the appeal of a cosy house with a fireplace, bookshelf, piano, and a certain librarian waiting to greet him.

As he sipped his beer, Harold became dimly aware of a woman singing at the bar piano.

_A town's a lonely town  
When you pass through,  
And there is no one waiting there for you  
Then it's a lonely town_

Harold rubbed his chin. The song was familiar…Chicago, that was where he'd heard it. A bar, not unlike this one, where a beautiful, broken woman had leaned on the piano and graced the room with the haunting melody.

_You wander up and down  
The crowds rush by  
A million faces pass before your eye  
Still, it's a lonely town_

Too true, Harold thought, too true. He hadn't noticed that, then, in Chicago. If he had felt lonely, he had brushed it aside, revelling in the independence that solitude brought.

_Unless there's love  
A love that's shining like a harbour light  
You're lost in the night  
Unless there's love, our world's an empty place  
And every town's a lonely town_

A thoughtful smile graced the man's lips, and his eyes fell to the pocket watch he pulled from his coat. Not long now, the train back to Iowa would soon be departing. He could leave this lonely town, and make his way back to River City. To his Marian. To his home.


	8. Him, I could love 'til I die

Harold Hill sighed contentedly as he stepped off the steam-train. It was good to be home. He whistled a familiar tune as he strolled through the streets, tipping his hat to the few River City-ziens still on the street in the late hours.  
He was surprised at the rush of warmth he felt when his eyes fell upon number 205 West Elm St. His pace quickened until he was practically running up the porch steps to ring the doorbell. He heard old Mrs. Paroo muttering to herself as she came to the door. As the door opened, Harold removed his hat.  
"Top of the evening to you, Mrs. Paroo."  
"Well, look who it is! Good to see you, me boy! MAAAARIAN!"  
Hill looked up, smiling to himself as he heard his sweetheart grumbling from the other room.

"I'm coming, Mama, I'm co—"  
Marian appeared atop the staircase, and when she saw who was at the door her face lit up like a Christmas tree.  
"Harold!" she squealed, running down the stairs as fast as she could. Widow Paroo chuckled and stepped aside as her daughter practically hurled herself into the man's arms. Harold laughed and picked her up, swinging her around gently.  
"I'm glad to see you too," he grinned, before pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.  
"I missed you so much," Marian smiled as they drew apart, and Mrs. Paroo snorted.  
"She missed you all right! She's done nothing but mope around for the past month!"  
Harold chuckled and squeezed Marian's hand as they wandered to the couch.  
"I'll put some jelly on the stove for yeh," offered Widow Paroo, smiling to herself at the obvious affection between the younger people.

"How was your trip?" Marian asked, scooting closer to him as they sat.  
"Oh, it was fine. I met lots of interesting people. Still, I was just a little homesick for River City, the calmness of small-town life…well, I missed you a bit too," he teased, and the woman rolled her eyes. She knew full well that he had missed her as much as she missed him, she could tell by the way he kept looking at her. Harold gazed around the living room with a contented smile on his face, then sat up in his seat.  
"I'll just go and help your mother with the jelly."  
"She doesn't need any help, she--"  
Harold silenced her, pressing a finger to her lips, then kissing her lightly on the tip of her nose.  
"I'll be back in a moment, my darling."  
Marian sighed and leaned back in her seat, attempting puppy-dog eyes. The man laughed. "I've missed you like crazy for the past month, do you think I'm going to let you out of my sight for anything exceeding ten minutes?" This seemed to satisfy the librarian, for a while at least, and she smiled.

Old Mrs. Paroo was humming to herself as she stirred the pot, and looked up as Harold entered. "I didn't think I'd see one of you without the other for at least an hour," she teased, "Can I get you a drink?" The man shook his head.  
"Actually, I'd like to ask you for something."  
"Why, of course," said Widow Paroo, unable to hide her curiosity.  
"I want to ask your daughter for her hand in marriage."

The jelly spoon clattered to the floor, but neither of them reached to pick it up. Harold didn't because his insides were churning, and Mrs. Paroo didn't because she hadn't appeared to notice. Her weathered old face shone for a moment, then with concentrated effort she attempted to appear composed. "How do you intend to provide for her?"  
"Well, I—hopefully I shall earn a comfortable living with my new 'Musical Emporium', and if that fails then I shall seek employment elsewhere. I intend for us to live at my house just around the corner, which is close enough to here that yourself and Winthrop could visit us whenever you required."  
The wizened old woman nodded thoughtfully, a smile gracing her lips. "You are good for Marian, and she is good for you, I am sure. I believe you will do everything in your power to make my daughter happy."  
Harold released the breath he had been holding, hope creeping around the edges of his anxiety. "Do I have your permission, then?" For the first time since the spoon had fell to the floor, Mrs. Paroo let her expression open up again. "Of course, me boy. Of course."  
The man sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mrs. Paroo. Thank you."  
"Nonsense," she chuckled, "I should thank you. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Marian happy. Now, go into the lounge and ask her."  
"I was going to ask her tomorrow morning."  
"Tomorrow? Fiddlesticks! There's no time like the present, and I couldn't possibly keep it a secret for that long. Ask her now, go on."  
Harold smiled, kissing the old woman on the cheek as he returned to the lounge.

Marian was pouring herself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher on the table when Harold entered. "Considering you 'missed me like crazy', you don't seem very eager to spend time with me," she smiled, though Harold sensed that a part of her wasn't joking. He smiled, joining her on the sofa. "Well, if I always acted like I wanted to around you, no one would take me seriously. You do believe that I missed you, don't you?" He took her hand, linking her fingers with his. Marian nodded, smiling. "I thought about you all the time. Actually, I was in a bookshop in Mason City on my way home, and I found something I just had to buy you." The woman's face lit up, and he reached into his jacket pocket. Marian carefully removed the brown paper, gasping with delight as she recognised the title.  
"Oh, Harold, thank you!" She stroked the leather binding.  
"Look inside the cover." Flipping the book open, the librarian gasped again. "Signed by the author! This is wonderful! Thank you!" Marian beamed, kissing her sweetheart on the cheek.  
Harold's smug smile faded, his stomach churning with nerves as he reached again into his pocket. She was oblivious to his apprehension, still gazing at the book.  
"I-uh-I got you something else, as well, in case you didn't like the book."  
"Harold, you really shouldn't h--"  
Marian's words caught in her throat as she looked up to see Harold holding out a little velvet box containing a ring set with a small diamond. She gasped, jerking her eyes up to meet his. What she saw there thrilled and terrified her.  
"Marian, I've just spent one month deprived of your company, and I couldn't stand it. I may have used to be a travelling salesman, but now that I've found you I can no longer imagine myself in that life. So, sitting on the train back to River City, I decided that the best way to avoid being separated from you again would be to…marry you."  
Tears were welling in the woman's eyes, and her knuckles were white where she gripped the arm of the chair. "I love you, Marian, with all of my depraved heart, and there is nothing I want more than to be with you. I promise to look after you as long as I live, and give you everything within my power. I ask you to at least consider my proposal." He chuckled nervously. "Oh, that's right, I'm supposed to be on one knee." He knelt to the floor, taking her hand and gazing up into her eyes. "Marian Paroo, will you marry me?"  
His dear little librarian smiled through her tears, gripping his hand tight. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely. "What was that?" Harold didn't dare trust his ears.  
"Yes, I'll marry you!" They both got to their feet, and Marian hurled herself into his arms for the second time that evening. Harold felt relief and joy like nothing he'd ever known wash over him. He laughed, picking her petite figure up and swinging her around. Ignoring the tears streaming down her face, Marian leaned in, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was just as loving and intense as the first kiss they shared at the footbridge.

When they drew apart, they found Mrs. Paroo smiling in the doorway. "Mama!" Marian cried, running to hug her mother. "Mama, we're going to be married!"  
The old woman beamed, her bleary eyes wet with unshed tears, and she stroked her daughter's hair. "Congratulations, me girl, congratulations!"  
"You're not surprised?" Marian looked confused.  
"Of course not. He just asked for my permission five minutes ago!"  
The woman looked at Harold, and began to laugh. "So that's why you wanted to help Mama in the kitchen!"  
"Well, Harold," smiled Mrs. Paroo, "Aren't you going to put the ring on her finger?"  
He picked up the ring from where it lay on the sofa, long forgotten. Marian extended her hand to him and he slipped the ring onto her delicate finger. She gazed at the ring for a moment, then looked up at Harold, then to her mother. She was quite overwhelmed. Thankfully her loss for words went unnoticed, because Widow Paroo jumped suddenly.  
"Oh Lord, I've left the jelly on the stove!"

The jelly was a little burnt, but to the new fiancés it tasted as sweet as ever. Winthrop was woken and came downstairs. Once he was awake enough to understand what all the fuss was about, he grinned, "Gee, Harold, it sure took you long enough!"

At ten thirty, Harold reluctantly stood up from his place next to Marian on the sofa. "I suppose I should get back to my hotel."  
"Goodnight then. And Harold, welcome to the family."  
The man smiled, and kissed Widow Paroo on the hand. "Thank you."

Marian escorted him to the porch, reluctant to see him go. He was just as reluctant to leave her. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then."  
"Yes. Harold...? I just…thank you." He smiled, and pulled her closer.  
"Thank you for accepting. I'm a lucky man, and I don't deserve it."  
"Yes you do. I'm the lucky one. I love you, Harold."  
"And you can't even comprehend how much I love you," he replied, kissing her briefly on the lips. "And now, I should go home."  
Marian sighed. "Alright. Goodnight, Harold."  
"Goodnight, my little fiancé."  
Marian beamed, and gazed at her new ring as she wandered back inside.


	9. He's Trouble

As Harold raised his hand to knock on the door of 205 West Elm St, he could hear a slightly mechanical-sounding piano exercise. Damn, Marian must be teaching. Oh well, he could just wait in the hall. As he crept in, Harold caught sight of young Amaryllis sitting at the piano. But Marian was not with her. Presumably she was somewhere nearby.  
"That's right Amaryllis. Keep going."

Harold grinned, realising that his fiancé must be in the kitchen. A mischievous smile crossed his face and he tiptoed into the room. Amaryllis looked up, but he pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for her to keep playing. Stifling a giggle, the little girl watched as he sat down next to her and placed his fingers on the keys. Her playing came to halt as he started plonking away to 'Chopsticks'.  
"Amaryllis! What are you—" Marian stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. Seeing Harold at the piano with a mischievous grin on his face, her expression melted into a laugh.  
"Harold," she giggled, "Get out of here!"  
"Half an hour then?" the man smiled, picking up his hat. Marian nodded, smiling, and pointed him firmly toward the door.  
"Good evening, Amaryllis. Miss Paroo." And with a tip of his hat, Harold was gone.


	10. When loved ones are parted

Marian hummed to herself, a familiar love song, as she made her bed.

"La de da, la de dum, la de da da de…that might've been. Do I love you? Oh yes, I love you. La da de da da de, hmmm hmmm hmmm la de da de da…"

Her eyes falling on the old wooden chest at the foot of her bed, the woman smiled wistfully. Sitting down on the bed, she lifted the lid, reaching for a well-worn leather bound book, with a blue ribbon dangling from the pages. Marian gazed down at it, smiling at she traced the golden lettering of the title with a delicate finger. _A Treasury of Fairy Tales._

The book fell open at the most frequently read page, displaying a detailed illustration of a beautiful princess wearing a glittery blue gown as she waltzed with her handsome prince. The woman smiled again, comparing the fairytale couple to her own romantic experience.

"You were right, Papa," she sighed. "I did spend too long waiting for my Prince Charming. But I've found him now. And you'd like him Papa, you really would. Harold's a real man, just like you wanted for me. He's no white knight, but he's good, he has such a good heart."

Marian clutched the book to her chest, using the object that reminded her most of her father as an outlet in which to pour all the love she felt for him. He had spent so many evenings at her bedside, nurturing her imagination with tales of good deeds, romance and adventure. He had introduced her to the world one can create inside one's head, something for which she would be forever grateful. She only wished he could see the life she had created off the pages.

But she knew he would be proud of her, and Winthrop, and his dear wife for carrying on. He would be grateful to Harold for what the man had done for their family. A smile graced Marian's lips as she imagined the two men conversing over dinner.  
Harold could have learned a lot from her father.

The woman dabbed at her damp eyes, placing the book on her pillow. She wanted to read Winthrop a bedtime story. If he wasn't already too old for fairytales. She smiled again, shaking her head. No, he would always have time to take a magic carpet ride with his sister. Marian had always hoped that one day he would find strength in the examples of chivalry from Lancelot or Robin Hood. But it had taken Harold's male influence to open the little boy's wounded soul. The change that had come over Winthrop was unbelievable, and so beautiful to behold. It had pained Marian to see her little brother suffering so, and even now every smile he gave her was a beautiful surprise.

Standing up, she wandered to her window, peering out of the curtain at the evening sky. She blew a gentle kiss to one twinkling star.

"Goodnight, Papa."


	11. Decking the Halls of Home

Winthrop came hurtling into the kitchen. "Mama! They're putting the Christmas Tree up in the square!"  
"Is it that time of year already? Goodness me. The Wells-Fargo Wagon will be busy with all the gift orders."  
"Where are Harold and Marian? I want to tell them too."  
"I think Marian is helping Harold set up his new Musical Emporium. You could run over and tell them if you want."  
"Harold darling, where do you want me to put this?" Marian could barely see around the large tuba in her arms.  
"I was thinking we'd put all the instruments into sections. If you could start putting together the brass section, I'll be there to help in a second," Harold mumbled round the nails in his mouth. He was perched on a ladder, attempting to erect a canvas marquee with 'Prof. Harold Hill's Musical Emporium' lettered on the front.  
"Do be careful up there Harold," added Marian as she made her way back inside.  
"I'm fine. _You _should be careful; that tuba's bigger than you are."

When Harold came down from the ladder with a throbbing thumb (he had never been the best with a hammer) he found that nearly all of the brass section was ready.  
"You work fast, don't you?" he grinned as Marian placed the final cornet on a stand.  
"I'm good with sections, it's the librarian in me."  
"Well, you've definitely done enough work for one day. What say we stop by the ice cream parlour on the way home?"  
"Don't you want to start sorting out the sheet music?"  
"Hmm, let's see…Work, or ice cream with Marian?…Work? Marian? Work?…"  
Chuckling, she grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. "Come on then."

They strolled through the square arm in arm, greeting those they met with a cheerful smile. Many of the band boys waved to Harold as they passed.  
"Oh look, Harold. They're putting up the Christmas tree." Marian pointed to the centre of town.  
"They are too. Guess I'll have to get busy buying presents. What would you like, my dear?"  
"I consider this my Christmas present," smiled his fiancé, pointing to her engagement ring.  
"Well, I'll have to see what other little thing I can get you."  
"I think I have some idea what I'll give you," smiled Marian mysteriously.  
"Oh, don't say that. You know I hate surprises. Besides, I already have all I want," he patted her hand. Marian's tender smile was interrupted as Winthrop came sprinting up to the couple.  
"Isn't the Christmas tree swell, Sister?"  
"Did you just say 'swell'? Why, that's one of the tell-tale signs of corruption, isn't it Harold? We've got trouble."  
Harold grinned and elbowed her gently at her teasing. "The Christmas tree is lovely, isn't it Winthrop? I think we should start playing some carols in the band."  
"Good idea," grinned the little boy. Across the street, the members of the school board had begun to harmonise to 'The Twelve Days of Christmas', and Winthrop scampered off to listen.  
"'Tis the season to be jolly," grinned Harold as he and his fiancé strolled back toward West Elm St.

* * *

A week later, most of River City was aglitter with tinsel, wreaths hung on every door, baubles decorating every window. Winthrop had helped Marian adorn the library banisters with red and green tinsel, and Harold had come to visit her one lunchtime with a sprig of mistletoe and a cheeky grin.  
"What are you doing, encouraging romance in my library?"  
"It wouldn't be the first time," Harold winked, "And besides, as long as they're kissing quietly you shouldn't mind."  
Marian shook her head laughingly, reaching to snatch the mistletoe from his grasp. He grinned, stepping back. "No you don't. I'm going to hang this in a nice suitable place."  
Marian marched after him, powerless to prevent her stronger, taller fiancé as he adorned the doorframe of the stack room with the mistletoe sprig. "Harold!"  
"Yes, dear?" he smiled innocently, taking her elbow and pulling her closer. Marian realised too late that she was now standing under the mistletoe with him.  
"Oh, look where we're standing."  
She barely had time to roll her eyes at his pretend-nonchalance before he bent to press his lips to hers. She feigned more reluctance than she felt, and became distinctly less reluctant as the kiss continued. Giving in completely as he wrapped his arms around her waist, it did not take Marian long to forget they were even in the library.

Zaneeta's girlish giggle was abruptly hushed as Tommy pointed to the doorway to the stack room, where she was astonished to see the librarian and the 'Professor' locked in a passionate embrace. Tommy looked rather scandalized, but Zaneeta was smiling as they slowly backed away to another section of the library.

Pulling back to gaze down at the somewhat breathless woman in his arms, Harold murmured, "Madam librarian, I believe we may just be in need of a chaperone." Seeing his fiancé's blushing smile, he added, "Either that, or we get married sooner rather than later."  
"I vote for the latter option," Marian smiled, withdrawing reluctantly from his embrace. "But right now, I have a display of Christmas picture books to set up."  
Harold grinned up at the sprig of mistletoe as she sauntered off.

* * *

Marian closed the door carefully, feeling guilty for interrupting the usual silence of her father's study. She leaned against the door for a moment, gazing around the room; the bookshelves, the picture frames on the wall, the globe on the desk. The woman crossed the room to the desk, and sat down gently in her father's old chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the familiar feeling of the leather, the faint smell of his cigars that still remained.  
"Hello, Papa…Sorry to disturb you, but it's that time of year again, and I have to get the decorations out, to decorate the tree."  
Marian smiled, closing her eyes to let old images flick across her vision.  
"You always loved spending Christmas with us. You made it so magic for Winthrop and I. Remember our little tradition? You always hung the nativity scene decoration for us, just under the angel on top. We haven't used that decoration for three years now, Papa."

She lowered her head, running her palms across the smooth leather in an attempt to comfort herself. "But this Christmas is going to be wonderful again, I can tell. Harold could never take your place Papa, in Winthrop's heart or mine, but somehow he makes things so much brighter for us all. We're so lucky to have him. Papa, I wonder if you'd mind…I thought that perhaps Harold could hang the nativity decoration this year…It's a tradition after all, and he is the man of the house now, in a way. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Marian smiled. "No, I don't think you would." She stood up, crossing the room and pulling up a stool so she could reach the box on top of the bookshelf. Once the box of decorations was tucked safely under her arm, the woman opened the door, ready to leave. She gazed around the room once more, with a tiny wistful smile.

* * *

"Oh Chrithmath Tree, Oh Chrithmath Tree, how evergreen your branches…"

Marian beamed as she watched her younger brother decorate their tree. The little boy was hardly recognisable from the withdrawn problem-child of three months ago. Harold had done so much for Winthrop. So much for Marian. So much for River City.

Tying a silver bow around the last gift box, Marian gathered up all the presents in her arms and carried them across the room to the tree.  
"Look at all the presents," Winthrop beamed, jumping around his sister with excitement.  
"You'll just have to wait until Christmas morning to get your presents, Winth."  
"That's only…two sleeps away."  
"Uhuh. And it's about time you started on one of those sleeps. Come on."  
The little boy reluctantly made his way upstairs, still humming 'Oh Christmas Tree'.  
Humming to herself, Marian tidied away the wrapping paper. She always loved this time of year. And it was even brighter when you were in love.

At five o'clock the following evening, Christmas Eve, Harold arrived on the doorstep in his Sunday best. He escorted the Paroo family to the town square, where the Boys Band were to perform. Their sound had improved considerably, and Widow Paroo was very proud of her son. Marian was very proud of Harold. As the proud River City-ziens applauded their sons, Marian spoke up. "Everyone is welcome to join us at home for Christmas carols and supper."

It seemed that the band boys couldn't get enough of carols, for many of the young lads came along to 205 West Elm St, as well as Amaryllis, Tommy and Zaneeta.  
The living room was full of children and adults chatting and enjoying seasonal drinks, and Marian was finding it hard to get their attention. Noticing this, Harold played two plonking chords on the piano, which brought the chatter to a halt.  
"We're ready to begin the carols now. What shall we sing first?"  
"Jingle Bells," piped up Amaryllis.  
"Very well," Marian smiled, sitting down at the piano.  
The group began a jolly, raucous chorus (Tommy particularly enjoying the 'one horse open sleigh, HEY!'). As he sang, Harold gazed around the community he was now a part of. Five months ago, he never would have imagined being content to stay put in a little town. But now there was nothing that made him happier than standing here next to his fiancé as she played her piano.  
After 'O Come All Ye Faithful', "We Wish You A Merry Christmas' and a few other favourites, the jolly group departed with a calming 'Silent Night'. Winthrop went to bed of his own accord, informing the fiancés that Saint Nicholas wouldn't give him a present if he wasn't in bed.

Watching as Marian kissed her little brother goodnight, Harold smiled. He wrapped an arm around her waist as they wandered back into the living room.  
"You know, I'm sure I'm going to have the best wife and mother on earth."  
Noticing the addition of 'mother', Marian gave him a surprised smile.  
"If we do have children, darling, I'm sure you'll keep them out of _trouble_."  
Chuckling, Harold gestured for his love to sit. "Now, I don't know about Saint Nicholas, but I think you deserve a little Christmas gift. I hope you like it. It's nothing amazing, but…"  
Marian carefully tore open the wrapping paper of the very thin parcel, wondering what was inside. It was too thin to be a book. She pulled the paper away, to reveal what seemed to be sheet music. She read the title. 'It's You.'  
"I was browsing through the Emporium's selection of sheet music," Harold explained, "And I recognised this song. We danced to it, remember, in the gymnasium? I just thought it might be nice to…dance to…every now and then."  
When Harold finally raised his self-conscious gaze from his feet, he found Marian smiling at him tenderly. "Thank you, darling. I love it."  
"I love you."  
"I've got a little something for you too," Marian placed the song carefully on the table. "But I shall give it to you tomorrow morning, when Mother and Winthrop are here."  
Harold's brow furrowed a little in curiosity. "Well, if you don't have a gift for me, I may as well go home."

Marian laughed as he turned and jokingly marched out to the hall. She grabbed his shoulder, turning him back around to see the teasing, loving grin on his face.  
"If it means you won't leave on a sour note, there is one small Christmas gift I could offer, I suppose."  
"Oh really?"  
The woman nodded, then wrapped her arms around his neck and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Breaking the kiss reluctantly and tenderly, Harold murmured, "I guess that's an okay sort of present." Marian rolled her eyes at his continued teasing, fully aware that he thought her kisses were a lot more than 'okay'.

"I wonder if Winthrop's asleep yet…"  
"Why?"  
"Well, I'm playing Saint Nicholas tonight."  
An understanding grin spread across the man's face. "May I join you?"  
"You want to join me sneaking gifts into my little brother's Christmas stocking?"  
"Why not?"  
Marian shrugged laughingly, not sure what to make of his request, but she found it quite endearing nonetheless. They tiptoed up the stairs, sharing childlike grins and whispering to each other to shush. They cringed as Winthrop's door creaked open, but soon realised the little boy was fast asleep.  
"Pass me the presents," Harold whispered.  
Marian bit her tongue in an attempt not to laugh as she watched the man tiptoe exaggeratedly across the room. He slipped a parcel into Winthrop's red stocking, pausing for a moment to grin down at his sleeping face. Marian felt her amusement melt to affection as he tiptoed back to join her in the doorway. Pulling the door slowly shut, Harold whispered to the sleeping boy, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."  
He smiled to himself as he ambled back downstairs beside his fiancé, his smile widening when they turned to face each other at the bottom of the stairs. Very abruptly, Harold felt himself pulled into a tight hug. He laughed into Marian's golden curls, unable to pull back at all from her firm embrace.  
"May I ask what brought that on?"  
"You," she replied simply, her voice muffled by the shoulder her face was buried in. "Just you."  
"In that case, I shall make a mental note to continue being 'just me', if it reaps these kind of benefits." He felt her smile as she pulled back.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow morning."  
"You sure will. I'll be over at half-seven to see what Winthrop got from Saint Nicholas."  
Marian grinned as they wandered out onto the porch, hand in hand.  
"Merry Christmas, Harold."  
"Merry Christmas, Marian."

* * *

An amused smile spread across Marian's face as she became dimly aware that her little brother across the landing was obviously considerably more awake than she was.  
"Sister! Sister! Saint Nicholas came in the night!"  
The woman rubbed sleep from her eyes, propping herself up in bed as Winthrop came running in. "He did? You must've been a good boy this year."  
"Of course I was!" Marian chuckled sleepily as Winthrop landed next to her on the bed, clutching his hand-sewn red Christmas stocking. "Well, let's see what he gave you then."  
The little boy tugged on the parcel sticking out of the hole. His sister was amused at how quickly the wrapping paper was removed.  
"Oh, look Sister! Saint Nicholas gave me a…a…" He unlatched the shiny tin box. "A tool set!"  
Marian grinned as her little brother inspected the mini hammer, screwdriver, spanner and saw.  
"Well, wasn't that thoughtful of him? I bet he knew you wanted to make a chair for your tree house." Winthrop's grin brightened a few watts.  
"Yeah, he must've. I'm gonna go show Mama."  
The woman smiled as he scampered out of her bedroom. Sitting up, she swung her legs out of bed.

By the time Marian had dressed for the Christmas service and managed to convince Winthrop into his Sunday best, they were rather late. The Paroo family was bustling out of the door when a well-dressed gentleman came running up the sidewalk.  
"Merry Christmas, one and all," Harold grinned breathlessly, his gaze travelling from the glowing eight-year-old to his beloved, looking gorgeous in her Sunday best.  
"Merry Christmas, Harold," Marian smiled, taking his arm as they set off down the street, joining the river of River City-ziens streaming towards the church.  
"Guess what Saint Nicholas gave me, Harold!"  
"What did he get you?"  
"A tool box! So that I can make a chair for my tree house!"  
"Well, wasn't that a good idea of his," the man grinned at Widow Paroo.  
"Do you think you could help me learn to use it?"  
"Sure. You'll be a little handy-man in no time."  
Marian shared a smile with her fiancé as they entered the church, amidst chatter and season's greetings.

_O, come all ye faithful_  
_Joyful and triumphant  
O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem  
Come and behold Him,  
Born the King of angels  
O come let us adore Him,  
O come let us adore Him,  
O come let us adore Him  
_

Marian's smile was brighter than the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows of the quaint little chapel as she sang along. There was nothing quite like the song of a congregation on Christmas morning. She beamed down at Winthrop, who was singing away with all his might. This was the Winthrop of Christmases Past. She had missed him so, and now here he was again. Harold grinned across at his fiancé, enjoying the way her crystalline voice soared over the others'.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Hill, Miss Marian!"  
The fiancés waved to Tommy and Zaneeta, who were waving from across the street with the hands that weren't holding each other's.  
"Can we go home now?" asked Winthrop hopefully. "I wanna give you my presents."  
"You want to get our presents more like," teased Mrs. Paroo, ruffling her son's hair as they strolled back home.

Widow Paroo chuckled as her son rummaged under the tree for a gift.  
"Here you are, Mama. This is from Sister and me."  
The green paper was torn away to reveal a shiny new cake tin, and a beautiful china cup. "That's too pretty to drink from, I'll sit it on display. Thank you, darlings."  
"I made this for you Harold. I hope you like it."  
Winthrop watched the man intently as he opened the little parcel. A smile split Harold's face as a small wooden carving fell into his hand. He examined the roughly-carved treble clef.  
"You can hang it on the wall in your Musical Emporium," the little boy explained.  
Grinning, Harold ruffled his hair, "Thanks, buddy. It's swell."

"Now, we've all got something for you, Harold," said Marian, rising from her seat. "It's a tradition, and we'd like you to be part of it." She handed her fiancé a little box. He looked up at her a little hesitantly, then opened the lid. Inside lay a small Christmas decoration. The nativity family, carved and painted, hanging on a little string.  
"When Papa was with us, this was always the last decoration we put on the tree. It was Papa's decoration, as the head of the family. And now," she smiled, "You are the head of the family."  
Harold's eyes widened as he realised the importance of the box in his hand. How could he ever fill the gap left by Mr. Paroo? What made them think he was capable, or deserving? He didn't feel deserving to be the one receiving these three smiles of love and encouragement. He let Marian take his hand and pull him over to the tree.  
"It's not Christmas without family tradition, Harold."  
He was overwhelmed by the gentle honesty of her gaze. Looking around at her mother and Winthrop, he met the same sincere smiles. They really did want him to become part of their family, and their traditions. Harold lowered his face, needing to hide the fact he was quite overwhelmed. When he opened his mouth to speak, he had to clear his throat.  
"Thank you, I'm honoured. But I don't think I deserve it. Winthrop has been the man of the house for a while now, and this should be his honour. Whaddaya say, Winth?"  
The eight-year-old blinked, as though the idea had never occurred to him. Then he smiled. "How about we do it together?"  
Marian battled tears as her fiancé lifted her brother up, holding a branch steady while the little boy hung the decoration atop the tree, just below the smiling angel. Setting Winthrop back on his feet, Harold smiled at the holy family.  
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Paroo."

Winthrop was tracing his finger through the bench-flour as Marian kneaded dough for Christmas cookies. "Harold," he asked thoughtfully, "How come it never snows in River City? Even on Christmas?"  
"It's too warm here," the man explained, leaning over his fiancé's shoulder to inspect her baking. The little boy folded his arms in exasperation. "But I _want_ it to snow!"  
"Do you now?" Harold grinned, and Marian was suddenly sure that he was about to do something very…Harold-ish.  
"Well, I can arrange a nice simulation."  
The next thing Winthrop knew, a little cascade of white was falling down his nose and into his hair. "Harold!" Marian laughed, reaching to pull the flour bowl out of his reach, but he grabbed it from her and began to chase Winthrop around the kitchen in circles. Tossing another pinch of flour into the air above the child, he grinned, "How's that? Snowy enough for ya?"  
"Harold! Stop iiiiit!" the eight year old giggled whiningly, obviously rather enjoying himself.  
Marian's mature distance was ruined when the man sprinkled some flour onto her nose.  
"Harold!"  
The man's cheeky grin disappeared when his sweetheart blew into the bowl of flour he held, covering him in a cloud of white. The brother and sister began to giggle as Harold coughed and spluttered. "Why, you little…"  
Marian squealed laughingly as he began to chase her, but Winthrop was soon to her rescue, distracting Harold long enough so that she could run out of the kitchen and nearly bowl over her mother in the hall. Looking her floured daughter up and down, Mrs. Paroo turned to gaze through the doorway, where the two men were still messing around. Noticing the way her daughter was smiling at them, Widow Paroo murmured, "You feel if you love them any more you'll just burst, don't you?" Marian turned to smile at her mother, surprised at how accurate a description it was. "That's exactly how I feel."  
"Don't be surprised, me girl. I am speaking from experience, after all."

Later, after Winthrop's good clothes had been de-floured and the two gentlemen had been banished from the kitchen, Marian returned to the living room with a tray of freshly baked cookies.  
"Yum!" grinned Harold, reaching over to grab one.  
"These are scrumptious, Sister."  
Marian grinned. "Thanks, Winth. See what I can accomplish when Harold isn't playing the weather man?"  
He chuckled and wrapped an arm around his fiancé as she sat down next to him in the fire's glow. He held out a cookie for her to bite from, then quickly popped it into his own mouth, poking out his tongue cheekily. Marian rolled her eyes and laughed.  
Winthrop leaned back against the chair, smiling contentedly around the room. "Papa would've liked this Christmas."  
The woman felt Harold's arm tighten around her in comfort, and she smiled at her little brother. "Yes, he would've. And so do I."


	12. Understanding

_Women!_

Harold shook his head as he marched down West Elm St. How a man could hope to remain sane and live with a woman, he did not know. Lord knows they were hard enough to understand. Marian, for instance. Dear and affectionate one moment, flaming mad the next.

_I mean honestly,_ he thought to himself, kicking at the curb as he went, _just because I hadn't quite gotten around to painting her Mama's fence like I said I would. I'm a busy man, she should know that, she lives with me. And I am going to paint it, when I have time._

Harold heaved a frustrated sigh as he strode past the bar of Charlie's hotel. As much as he'd love a good drink, it was only one o'clock. That wouldn't do. But he couldn't go home; she'd just end up convincing him to apologise and paint the fence immediately. And that would not do either. He was the man of their house, after all, wasn't he? And she and those eyes of hers changed his mind a little too often as it was. No, he'd stand firm, and go to…the Ice Cream Parlour. If he couldn't console himself with a beer, a soda pop would have to do.

The bell clanging as he entered, Harold sat down on of the stools, ordering a cola from the lad behind the bar.  
"Hi, Professor."  
Harold looked across to see Tommy sitting a couple of stools away, picking listlessly at a strawberry sundae. At first the man was surprised by his tone, then he noticed with great surprise that the youth was alone. Zanita-less. The pair had been inseparable for a long time now, and the fact they were not at each other's side right now was clearly an indication of something wrong.  
"Oh, hello there, Tommy. How's things?"  
"Fine, thanks." The teen continued to stare glumly down at his ice cream. After a silence in which he smushed the strawberry with his spoon, he looked up again.  
"Well, actually Professor, I'm not so fine. Zanita…I just…don't understand her sometimes. Do you know what I mean?"  
Harold chuckled dryly at that. "Do I ever."  
"Perhaps you could give me some advice. I mean, you know more about women than me."  
The man sipped his cola. "Believe it or not, I don't know all the secrets to a woman's mind," he scoffed at himself internally at the understatement, "but I'll try to help."  
"Well, she just…she's just so changeable. She gets upset about the smallest things, and I never know what to say to cheer her up. I mean, ya can't just hug a girl every time she's upset, can you? Especially when she's angry."  
Harold nodded, wishing it was that simple. Marian's hugs were the best.  
"Today, we were going to get ice creams to go and walk down to the footbridge, but she started talking some rubbish about watching her figure. I told her not to be silly but she wouldn't shut up about it, so I told her she was being stupid, and that I'd buy one for her. She kinda took it the wrong way, and said something about her always shouting me sundaes, because I've never got any money on me. And then she stormed off."  
The man took another sip of his cola, looking across at Tommy.  
"Yeah, women tend to get upset about the smallest things. Trying to please them can be like tiptoeing around eggshells. Zanita'll cool off after an hour or so, they always do. I don't know Zanita very well, but do you think she might've been fishing for a compliment about her looks, with all that 'watching her figure' business."  
Tommy's spoon clinked on the glass of his dish. By the look on his face, that idea had never occurred to him. "You could be right there. But…she knows I think she's gorgeous! How could she not know?"  
"Sometimes women like to be told. They get funny ideas that we're bored of them if we're not writing sonnets of their beauty every five minutes. Maybe when you next see her, fit in some casual comment about her dress, or her hair, or something."  
Tommy smiled for the first time since Harold had walked in. "Okay. Thanks, Professor."  
The man nodded, with a little smile. Then he sighed, running his finger around the rim of his cup. "I don't know, Tommy. I guess it's like Oscar Wilde said: 'Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood'."  
The teenager chuckled round a mouthful of sundae. "That guy's not wrong."  
Harold grinned, nodding, then his grin faded. Damn it, that woman even had him quoting literature in daily life now! Not that that was really a bad thing, but…Damn it!

The two men looked up as the door swung open and a little red head appeared in their line of vision.  
"Well, hello there Winthrop."  
"Hello," the boy replied flatly. Tommy and Harold shared a look. Then they looked out the door, to see Amaryllis glaring in, before turning on her heel and marching off.  
"You too, huh?" the teenager nodded for the assistant to get Winthrop a sundae.  
The eight year old nodded, and took a big angry mouthful of ice cream.

The three men sat on their stools for over an hour. Harold found it difficult to take himself seriously while sitting in a pink parlour with a teenager and a nine-year-old. Marian was probably wondered where he was…Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe she'd gotten out the paint tin herself, and was painting her Mama's fence, and thinking what a hopeless husband she had. Harold sighed, looking up from his third glass of cola to see Zanita and Amaryllis entering the ice cream parlour. By the look on their faces, it was obvious they had not expected to find the boys there. Sharing a determined gaze, they averted their eyes from the bar stools, turned on their heels, and marched out. Winthrop and Tommy shared a despairing gaze. The teenager stood up. "That's it. I'm going to go talk to her." After a second's pause, Winthrop leapt off his stool and followed the older boy.  
Harold smiled to himself, looking down into his cola. He really should go and sort things out with Marian.

The setting sun was casting golden ripples on the water below the footbridge. Harold gazed down at his reflection. What a hopeless expression that man was wearing. He should be at home, with his wife. _Oh, but he's too cowardly_, thought Harold, glaring at himself. _He's too proud to go home and admit he was just a little less than perfect.  
_He looked a couple of feet to his left, remembering the night he and Marian had stood at that spot. That was it. He had to see her.

Harold breathed out slowly as he approached Number 210 West Elm St. _I can do this. Just apologise, tell her I'll paint the fence first thing tomorrow morning, and…  
_Harold stopped, his gaze falling on the mailbox at their gate. Someone had left a paint tin and brush sitting on top. He rolled his eyes, his fists clenching.  
_So she thinks she can make me paint the fence, does she? Thinks she's got me wrapped around her little finger? God, she can be cheeky sometimes. We'll just see about that!_  
Harold began to turn on his heel, then his puffed-up chest deflated and he stopped in his tracks. She didn't _think_ she had him wrapped around her little finger; she _knew_ she did. She _knew_ he'd come home at the end of the day with an apology and a kiss. Sighing, he started up the path.

When Harold tiptoed into the lounge, he found his wife tinkling away at the piano. She looked up, a mix of amusement, affection, and a hint of triumph in her eyes.  
"Hello Harold. How was your day?"  
"Long…Lonely…I never want a cola from the ice cream parlour again…And I suddenly feel a strange impulse towards fence-painting."  
He crossed the room and sat down beside her at the piano stool. Any remaining stubbornness and pride was drowned in her eyes. "Well, if you're so keen, I may just join you. I mean, I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun."  
Harold grinned and leaned in to kiss his wife. Marian smiled as his kisses began to travel down to her neck, but she gently pulled away. "There's a fence waiting for us."  
The man was clearly disappointed. "Now?!"  
"Now," she nodded, standing up.  
"But...it's dark!"  
Marian raised an eyebrow at the obviousness of his statement. "Yes, darling. And what could be more romantic than a moonlit fence-painting rendezvous?"

When Mrs. Paroo drew her curtains at ten o'clock, she caught a glimpse of a couple sitting on her lawn with brushes in hand. She chuckled at the quiet laughter from the husband and wife as they threatened to paint each other white. When the entire fence was finally done, Harold leant back against the veranda and pulled his wife into his arms.  
"See, was that so bad?" she smiled up at her husband, those opinion-changing eyes glowing from above her paint-spotted nose.  
"Actually, I wouldn't mind doing it again. Say, does our fence need painting?"


	13. Pillow Talk

Marian lifted her head lazily from Harold's bare shoulder.  
"Darling?"  
The man closed his eyes, pressing his head back further against the pillow.  
"No Marian, I am not going to attempt to bake you grapefruit pie at twelve o'clock at night. Remember what happened last time?"  
She laughed, the bulge of her belly shaking in the way that Harold found so endearing.  
"Don't worry, I'm not craving anything right now. Other than conversation."  
Relieved, he grinned down at her, moving his hands to rest on her pregnant (very pregnant) stomach. "What would you like to talk about, my dear?"  
"I'm not sure, but I can't sleep just yet."  
"Can I get you anything? A drink? Food that doesn't involve cooking?"  
Marian chuckled and shook her head, snuggling in closer to her husband. Harold sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth and softness of the woman in his arms.

"You know, I was thinking…"  
"You what?"  
He poked his tongue out at her childishly before continuing.  
"I was thinking that life is a lot like that poem, 'The Road Not Taken', by…Burns, was it? No, Robert Frost."  
Marian raised her head again, looking up at her husband with a surprised smile. "Are you trying to get into my good books or something?"  
Harold grinned. "Although I am aware that quoting poetry to you is something that might earn me an extra smile, I do have other motivations for discussing this."  
"Go on."  
"Well, the last line, 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I---/I took the one less travelled by/ And that has made all the difference.' It's so true. I mean, split second decisions can change your life forever. Mine, for instance. I hadn't really intended to get off the train at River City. But then I heard Charlie Cowell telling the fellas that even the great Harold Hill wouldn't risk it with hawk-eye Iowans. And I thought 'We'll see about that'. The second I got off that train, my life changed forever, without my knowing it."  
Marian nodded, smiling, understanding what he meant. She was a little surprised at how serious he was being. As much as loved his childish mischievousness, she was quite enjoying this kind of discussion as well.  
"And the thing is," Harold continued, "how easily my life could've gone down a different path. A much less wonderful one." He caressed the bulge of his wife's stomach.  
"If Charlie Cowell hadn't unknowingly dared me to give Iowa a try, I would never have come to River City. I never would've met you, or tried to woo you, I never would have fallen in love with you—"  
"You would never have got Winthrop into the band, and made him open up again. River City wouldn't have a band, or a Delsarte Committee, or a very happy librarian," Marian added, smiling and pressing a kiss on his shoulder.  
Harold smiled, scooting down in bed to be closer to his wife's stomach. "And we wouldn't have you," he cooed to their baby, in a way that made Marian's heart melt. She loved the way he had taken to conversing with their child, telling it how much he loved it, or what a pretty mother it had if he was trying to get into Marian's good books.  
His smile faded as Harold placed his head back on the pillow. "It's quite a sobering thought, how differently it all could have turned out." His wife hugged him closer, murmuring into his shoulder, "But it _did_ turn out this way."  
"Yeah," the man grinned thoughtfully. "It did."  
"I _did_ find my white knight," Marian added, her voice dreamy with the beginnings of sleep.  
"What?"  
"My white knight. You." The woman lifted her head from his shoulder to the pillow, to make discussion easier. "When I was little, Papa would read me a story every night before I went to sleep. I always liked the stories about princesses and princes living happily ever after. Papa used to tease me that the silly love stories would go to my head, and that when I grew into a big girl I'd wait around for my Prince Charming, instead of marrying a real man."  
Harold smiled down at her. He was touched every time she talked about her father; there was always so much love in her eyes when she spoke of him. Harold was sure he would have liked Mr. Paroo.  
"I guess he was right," Marian continued, "For a while anyway. I closed myself off into the safe world of books; none of the men I saw were Lancelots or Romeos, and as a teenager this was what I expected. As I got older I realised this was silly, and I started to long for a realer kind of man, someone who'd love me for who I was, but I suppose by then I'd cemented my reputation as stuck-up, and few men were interested. So I gave up, more or less. I still dreamed about finding love, but I figured it was too late. And then I met a man so infuriating, so arrogant, so terribly attractive…" Her grin faded to a soft smile. "He ended up stealing my heart. And I haven't got it back yet."

His grin also faded as he ran a hand through her golden curls. "I still feel a little guilty about that." Marian rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last, time he worried over the way she'd fallen for him.  
"You feel guilty because you opened my heart, brought my family back together, and gave me the kind of life I could only dream of? Harold, how many times do I have to tell you? I couldn't be more grateful for everything you've given me, and I wish you could just realise that."  
A gentle smile crossed Harold's face, and he leaned in to kiss his wife, rather than attempt to express what he felt in words. Snuggling back down beside her husband, Marian yawned.

"You tired, darling?" he smiled, tapping her lightly on the nose.  
"A little. We'd better get some sleep. We have to get up early to go to Winth's baseball game, remember."  
"Oh yeah," Harold nodded, grinning as he remember practicing catching with his little brother-in-law. He was about to close his eyes, when he abruptly scooted down in the bed once more.  
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmured into his wife's stomach, kissing it lightly.  
He could see Marian's eyes glistening in the dark when he placed his head opposite hers on the pillow again. Her voice was just slightly choked with feeling as she whispered, "Goodnight, my someone."  
"Goodnight, my love."


	14. Their Lullaby

Marian yawned, running a brush through her curls. It had been a long day. Well, not really, but it felt like it. She was so tired these days. The woman let out a little gasp as she felt a sharp pain in her belly, as if the baby was claiming responsibility for her fatigue.  
"I haven't forgotten about you, don't you worry," Marian smiled down at the bulge of her stomach. Sitting down at her dressing table, she stroked her dressing-gowned belly.  
"I wonder who you are," she murmured softly, gazing down adoringly. "I wonder who you're going to grow up to be. Whoever you are, I love you, more than anything in the world, except possibly your father. No, I love and your father equally."  
The woman continued to caress her stomach as she wandered over to the bed where Harold would soon join her as soon as he had finished brushing his teeth.  
"I'm going to sleep now, and you should too, because you need even more sleep than I do. Would you like me to sing you to sleep, baby? This is a special song. It makes me think of your Daddy."  
Marian sat down on the edge of her bed, and began to sing softly to her baby.

"_Goodnight, my someone, goodnight, my love.  
__Sleep tight, my someone, sleep tight, my love.  
__Your star is shining it's brightest light,  
__For goodnight, my love, for goodnight.  
__Sweet dreams be yours dear,  
__If dreams there be,  
__Sweet dreams of your dear Papa and me.  
__We love you darling, with all our might,  
__Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight.  
__Goodnight, goodnight…"_

Harold stood in the doorway, his mouth still tingling from the toothpaste. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Suddenly feeling that his eyes could do with a cold flannel, he tiptoed slowly back to the bathroom.


End file.
